


not wanted: knight in shining armor

by inferablefiend



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Erotica, F/M, Stripping, positive sex working
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 20:45:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18746791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inferablefiend/pseuds/inferablefiend
Summary: Ceri Hawke is a popular stripper at the Red Rose. So popular in fact, one master has taken notice of her all the way from Denerim and he wants her for himself. While his elf is attempting to convince, she is unwillingly rescued by Varric Tethras. Unhappy with his involvement, he offers to take her out to dinner to make up for it. But when the master won't leave her alone, Ceri must figure out how to tell him no and keep her life--even if it means asking Varric for help.





	not wanted: knight in shining armor

**Author's Note:**

> this may be my first kind of erotica. there will be smut soonish in the next few chapters. it's been a *long* time since I've written anything with the main cast of the DA:2 characters, so please be kind.

First the lights, flashing in time with the slow tempo music. It nearly vibrates the stage underneath Ceri’s feet. She straightens her almost too short skirt. “Alright Wildfire,” the owner says, nodding to her from behind the DJ booth. “You’re up next.”

For two years, Copper Wildfire has been a regular favorite with the customers. She isn’t one to be ashamed of her chosen path, in fact, she’s proud of her routine and how she makes the men feel. However, she is careful of who she tells. Bethany knows, but not her mother or their weird uncle. It helps that she wears a copper orange wig pinned so tightly to her scalp, pulling it off might actually rip out her roots.

This will stop anyone recognizing her if they accidentally step into the Red Rose.

“Put your hands together for Copper Wildfire!” the DJ accounces. The curtain is lifted and she sashays out onto the long stage, ending in a large circle and a pole coming up from the middle to attach to the ceiling.

It’s all muscle memory, automatic movements so ingrained in her body, she probably could do it all in her sleep. This allows her time to pick out regulars in the crowd, either by their touch as they stuff bills into her g-string or voice, calling her name. Screaming for her body. Ceri turns herself upside down, hair trickling down the pole. Breasts fall against her chin, hands stuffing bills into the understand of her bra, heightening her sense of touch. She shudders at every calloused hand caressing her skin.

She holds on tightly, spinning herself down and landing on the ground, kneeling for a moment as the world spins. A grin pops onto her face and she’s up, grabbing the thin straps of her bra, taking them off and and whipping it over her head, putting her back against the cold pole. Sweat pours down her body, making her shine under the hot lights.

Ceri goes into the finale of her routine, moving her body quickly around the pole. This is her favorite part to act out. She spins quickly around the pole, one leg acting as an anchor, her hair and body a bit like a spinning arrow.

Lights die down, turning to point at the stage as she bows low and picks up her top, plus all the fallen money. “Good job as ever,” the DJ says, clapping her on the shoulder, careful to keep his hand well above where it would be considered inappropriate. He learned the hard way you never mess with Ceri Hawke.

“Wildfire,” a voice demands. She turns her head, past the slightly open curtain to meet the eyes of a handsome blonde man. He waves a fat stack and she nods, putting her top back on.

“Duty calls,” she trills, patting the owner on the hand and taking the backway off the stage, stopping by her vanity to lock her money away in a hidden compartment in the bottom drawer. She loves her job, but she doesn’t trust any of these bitches one bit.

It’s easy to find him. He’s taller than everyone else, his blonde hair parted around pale, pointed ears. An elf. What’s an elf doing in the Red Rose? It’s an uncommon to see an elf as a patron, most wanting to use their thin, willowy figures to attract the human male gaze. It works and Ceri had to work twice as hard to become a favorite against her competitions.

“Copper Wildfire,” the elf says, sitting in a black, armed chair. He opens his legs, loose jeans gathering in the crotch. It does little to hide the bulge. “I want a lap dance.”

“Forty for ten minutes. Fifty for topless.”

A hundred dollars is tucked into her delicate string. She happily takes off her top. It’s always easy to tell what kind of guy he is. Patrons are hardly subtle of where their eyes land, whether it be ass, tits or legs. The elf seems to be a tit man.

Ceri works her body over his, hands trailing down his exposed, but shapely arms. Dark eyes never so much as leave hers as the time ticks away in her mind. She throws a leg onto the back of the chair, very quickly, so slightly, so almost missed it, his lips, feather light, graze across her skin.

It’s not the first time a patron has inappropriately touched her and it won’t be the last. Ceri glares at him, pushing herself back. “There are rules against touching the girls. I reserve the right, as per the Red Rose policy, to keep your money and not finish the lap dance.”

The elf’s hooded eyes glare at her as Ceri turns and loses herself in the crowd. Jackass. “Ceri, you okay?” Merill asks. Ceri got her a job as a waitress. Honestly, she wasn’t sure Merill would’ve been able to do the job, but her innocence, large green eyes and pale skin all work in her favor.

“I’m alright, Mer,” Ceri says. She’s not supposed to drink on the job, a privilege ruined by Te’vana getting smashed every night. Despite knowing this, she grabs herself a shot of whiskey, unsure of why this particular patron really bothered her.

Maybe because he was trying to be subtle instead of being so blatant or because he was horrifying sober.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ceri turns her eyes to Merill, a question on her lips, but her body answers it for her. She’s shaking, legit shaking from that encounter.

From here, she has two options. If she fears her life, she can tell security and he’ll be eighty-sixed from the Red Rose or she can hope it’s only strike one. Ceri hates telling security. Not only did she pay for defense classes, but eighty-sixing people from Red Rose could cause her reputation to fall rapidly and she counts on those patrons for money of course.

“Yes, I’m completely sure.” She needs someone to distract herself. Another patron, one drunk this time. That way if he touches her, it won’t feel so creepily deliberate.

Red Rose is crowded. Much of the “common” area is taken up by creaky, questionable chair and table sets. Walls are lined with built in chairs, made for semi-private lap dances and the rest by two long stages. There’s a single hallway, well-lit, that leads back to the VIP rooms, where Ceri knows her coworkers will take the drunkest men and dance for them until they come out owing the girl hundreds of dollars. It’s a practice Ceri has done in the beginning months of her career, but not something she wants to repeat. It doesn’t sit well with her conscience.

“Te’vana is looking for you,” Merill squeaks. “She’s over by the bar.”

Te’vana and Sean both own the Rose, but Te’vana deals with the women. Te’vana deals with everything else, things that Ceri wouldn’t begin to understand when it comes to dealing with a business. Sometimes though, she wishes Sean would be the one to deal with the strippers because Te’vana often forces them to do things outside their comfort zone.

“Wildfire, you owe someone a free lap dance.”

“If it’s that elf, you can fucking forget it. Creep put his lips on my leg.”

Te’vana purses her lips. “He apologized. Said it was an accident. Give him another chance.”

Accident her ass. Next time, she’ll stick her foot into his mouth.

No, wait, he may like that.

She wrinkles her nose at the both amusing and disturbing thought of the elf choking on her toes.

“Fine. But not in the VIP rooms I will give him a ten minute-”

“Fifteen minutes,” Te’vana barters. Her breath slides over Ceri’s nose and it’s clear she’s been drinking again even though Sean told her not to. It makes sense of why she’s doing this now. Te’vana is sweet and caring, but often she can be found doing things more for coin when drunk.

Over Te’vana’s shoulder, she can see the elf glaring at her, the only ounce of emotion in his face. “Do you know his name?”

“Why?”

“Just in case I have to file a charge against him.”

Te’vana scoffs and shakes her head at Ceri. It’s easy for her, all of this. She doesn’t have to deal with the unwanted gazes or touches of her customers. If anyone touches Te’vana, it’s no question eighty-sixed. Sean doesn’t share. “Aelan. He just came to Kirkwall, fresh off the boat from Denerim.” She waves her hand in the air. “He came for you, Ceri Hawke. You’ve made quite a name for yourself in Ferelden.

Strange. She doesn’t know anyone there. Ceri nods to Aelan, pointing to an empty table. No comfortable, squishy chairs for him. Surprisingly, Aelan agrees and takes a seat, eyes never leaving her. “I keep my top on.”

“Fine. Do whatever, just give him the fucking lap dance.”

Ceri considers, for a half-second, to flip Te’vana off, but it’s best not to upset her. She walks to Aelan, aware of people around, patrons and coworkers. Not one stops her, though she internally begs them to.

“Ceri Hawke,” Aelan says, his voice deep.

“Aelan from Ferelden.” There’s a hint of a smile. Ceri throws her leg over his shoulder, checking the clock to make sure this creep gets his fifteen and nothing more. “How have you heard of me?”

“My master makes sure he keeps up on everything beautiful in the world of Thedas. You among it.”

“What interest does he have in me?” Aelan’s eyes darken and she regrets her question. Ceri doesn’t really want to know what interest some master in Ferdelen has in her. She focuses on giving the elf the best lap dance she can, though she wants nothing but to flake on him and give him a terrible one.

But if that happens and he complains, Isabela might force her into the VIP room alone with him and Ceri needs witnesses damnit.

“Are you going to answer my question?” Ceri pushes, running her fingers into his ribs and trailing them down to his hips. The elf makes no sound, his face never revealing if that hurt or not. Which is unfortunate, because that was a risky thing for her to do.

“Why answer it when I can show you?” No, no, no. She won’t be going anywhere with this fucking creep. “He’ll pay you more than the Red Rose pays you in a year if you come back to Denerim with me and meet him. Hear what he has to say.”

“I’m here to give you a lap dance and then I want you out of the club. I have no time for men like you. I am in charge of my own fucking career, not some plaything for an unknown master back in Denerim.” Aelan’s eyes flit somewhere behind her and Ceri’s stomach falls.

His hands grip her hips tightly and he brings her closer to him, her crotch sitting against his stomach. “A no wasn’t what my master prepared for. He wants you to say yes and you will say yes.”

Ceri glares at him, her face reflected in his eyes. “I said no and I meant no. I’m only over here because my boss demanded that I give you a free lap dance.” His hands tighten and she hisses in pain, her mind quickly going over how she can remove herself from this situation. Her leg is still thrown over his shoulder and it’s beginning to strain at the hip joint. She’ll have to move his hands off her first before she could do any real damage. Of course, she can pull his hair, but how will that stop him? It might only anger Aelan more and she needs him--

“The lady very clearly said no,” a deep voice says from behind the chair. Partially hidden behind the elf’s body is a dwarf holding a very large, impressive crossbow to the back of Aelan’s neck. “I suggest you let her go or the Red Rose will see red tonight.”

Aelan carefully takes his hands off of her, eyes still on hers. There isn’t an ounce of fear in his face, something more frightening right than if he was afraid of the arrow going through his neck. Moving her leg off the back of the chair, Ceri takes a step back, holding onto the table as her limb is fully asleep and unmovable.

“I suggest you leave,” the dwarf says, not moving from his position behind Aelan. He stands and turns without glancing over his shoulder at him. Folding the sides into the crossbow, the dwarf puts the weapon onto his back and smiles at Ceri.

“Thanks, but I didn’t you to ‘rescue’ me,” Ceri says, sitting into the nearest chair and rubbing her fingers into the meat of her leg.

“That’s not what it looked like to me. You asked him to let go and he didn’t. I thought I would step in and help a beautiful lady such as your-”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, dwarf,” Ceri growls, turning her blue eyes to him.

“I prefer Varric, but dwarf will work,” Varric says laughing. “I am sorry I rescued you.” His voice quips at the end, sarcasm dripping from his sentences.

Ceri simply continues to glare at him, having no words. She probably did needing saved, she probably did need him to step in, but it wasn’t for him to decide. She nearly had him, nearly had her out. But no. She’s done for the night.

Her leg tingles, but she can put weight on it, so she stands and nods to him. “It was nice meeting you Copper Wildfire. I hope to see you again,” Varric calls after her as she moves towards Te'vana. She looks over her shoulder and meet his glittering amber eyes.

_I hope I never see you again._

Te'vana gives her the rest of the night off after having to listen to Ceri go on and on about how uncomfortable Aelan made her. She doesn’t care if he came from fucking Antiva, she won’t be doing anymore lap dances for free, especially if they’ve touched her. Accident or not.

The sun shines through the red district of Hightown. It renders the red lanterns that hang out of every business door completely obsolete. Strange for her to see what the red district looks like in evening sun, Ceri shoulders her bag and continues walking on, only to be stopped by a young elf boy, holding a package and a piece of parchment for her.

“Excuse me, Miss Wildfire,” he says, stepping in front of her.

“Yes?” Is this from Aelan? If it is, it’s going straight into the water. She’ll walk to the docks herself.

“Mr. Tethras has instructed me to give this to you.” Tethras? She doesn’t know any Tethras.

“Was this man an elf?”

“No, ma’am. He was a dwarf with a crossbow on his back.”

Her so not wanted knight in shining armor. “I don’t want the package. Return to sender please.”

“But ma’am, he said to give it to you. He gave me twenty dollars. If I bring it back to him, I’m afraid I’ll have to give him his money back.”

Ceri sighs and grabs the package from him and the note. The elf child scampers off, whooping and grinning as he holds his twenty dollars triumphantly over his head. She doubts this Varric guy knows her well, but she couldn’t let him walk off to give his money back. She couldn’t pay him either.

Leaning against the brick of the Red Rose, she opens the note. It’s a simple phone number, seven digits. But what’s more curious to her is in the package. Opening it, she finds a copy of Hard in Hightown. Not first copy, but it does have his autograph inside as well as an inscription to her.

_Copper Wildfire,_

_I apologize for coming to your rescue. I often hate seeing women in your career put in a position where they can’t fight back. I hope this makes up for it. I don’t know if you are a fan or not. If you were, I imagine you would recognize my name, but regardless… Will dinner make up for my unwanted involvement? If so, feel free to contact me with my personal number._

_Yours,_

_Varric Tethras_

No, she isn’t a fan of his. In fact, it hadn’t even occurred to put two and two together. It’s all Cassie can talk about, his next book that’s coming out but isn’t yet. It’s been driving the poor woman crazy. This may not be his next book, but it’s certainly something she’d love to half. Carefully, Ceri rips out the top half of the page, folding it and sticking it into the back of her jeans.

The walk home is short. Her mother never thought to check for her daughter’s career in the red district, though Ceri’s sure if her mother knew where she worked, it would send the older woman into a heart attack. She tosses her bag onto the couch and sinks into it, running a hand through her hand. Fuck tonight. Fuck her career sometimes. Bethany isn’t due for another few hours. On nights she works, Bethany heads over to the school to help teach mages how to control their magic and tonight is obviously no different.

Ceri leans her head back, closing her eyes. She could fall asleep here, but the mess of her living room calls for her to get up. “I don’t want to,” she says in response to the silent crying. “Noooo. Let me rest.”

It’s not like her living room to be such a mess, but lately the Red Rose has been more packed than usual and she just comes home without actually cleaning. And it’s not fair to expect Bethany to clean up her mess and she asked her sister to leave it be. Something she’s sure bothers the mage, but she doesn’t care. Getting up, she picks up her random pieces of clothing strewn about the living room.

Paper pokes into her skin as she bends down and moves the coffee table back. “Oh fuck.” Going on this date won’t kill her and it’ll hopefully shut her mom up about getting out there and stop focusing on her career so much. Men aren’t that awful.

How naive.  

Grabbing it, she bites her lip and reads the number again.

_Send to: (524)-257-5555_

_Message sent: Consider it a date._

 


End file.
